The Grand Easton Affair
by Red Witch
Summary: Lana is recruited for a secret mission by another secret agency.


**The disclaimer saying that I don't own any Archer characters has gone to a hotel. That I just made up. Just a little solo mission that came into my tiny little mind.**

 **The Grand Easton Affair **

"What do you mean Mallory isn't going to meet me at the hospital?" Lana asked as she walked out of County Day talking on her cell phone. "I just dropped off AJ! What? How much absinthe did she drink? How is that **possible?** It's not even 8 in the morning yet!"

Lana paused. "Oh. She started drinking last night and didn't stop. Ugh. In other words, she's in no condition to go anywhere. Except maybe ironically to the hospital."

Lana went to her car. "Fine. I'll go visit Archer myself and…What? Ray I can't hear you! Speak up! What? How did Cheryl get those ATVs into the building in the first place? Never mind! I'll talk to you later!"

She put her phone in her purse and went inside the car. "Great. As if I didn't have **enough** to do today! Ugh. How could this day get any **worse**?"

Just then she noticed an odd smell in her car. Then her vision blurred. "I had to ask…" She groaned as she passed out.

Before she knew it, she was smelling something very strong. "Ugh!" She shot up. She was sitting in a comfortable seat in an office somewhere.

"She's fine," Someone said. "No side effects from the gas."

"Ugh…" Lana shook her head. "I can't believe I fell for the old knockout gas in the car trick. Damn it."

"Yeah you get out of the spy business for a bit and your edge really goes, doesn't it?"

Lana looked up. There were a few people in the room. But one of them she knew. "Jack Hunter? What the hell?"

A man in a suit who looked like the actor Scott Foley was sitting behind a desk from her. "Hello Lana. It's been a while."

"What the hell is going on Hunter?" Lana barked. "Why did you kidnap me?"

"Because I need you for a mission and I didn't want Mallory Archer or your associates at the Figgis Agency to find out," Hunter remarked. "And I figured since they hang onto you like a remora I couldn't just walk up to your doorstep or where you work. And I mean work in the loosest terms imaginable."

"Point taken," Lana folded her arms. "You do remember that I've been banned from intelligence work?"

"That makes you the perfect person to carry this mission out," Hunter said. "Since you are not on any official files anymore."

"Blacklisted agents or burned agents are on a completely different list," A large African American bald man with a beard in a dark suit explained.

"Agent Tack, brief Ms. Kane on the mission," Hunter waved.

"Uh I haven't said I'd **do** this mission yet," Lana pointed out.

"Oh, I think you will," Hunter shrugged. "For three reasons. One, you need the money. Two, you're probably itching for some action. Three, it gets you away from the Figgis Agency all day."

"Continue," Lana said.

Hunter turned on a monitor to reveal stats and a picture of a very handsome black man with a mustache. "Marcel Delacroix, AKA Le Poignon or The Dagger. French arms dealer who has been harder to pin down than an Olympic wrestling champion."

"Usually he never sets foot out of Europe," Hunter explained. "This is his first trip to the United States. And I don't think it's to go on the Hollywood Tour."

"We believe he's involved in a huge arms deal but we don't know with who or what the merchandise he's selling is," Agent Tack added.

"He's staying here," Hunter added. "At the Grand Easton Hotel. Where we are actually."

"One of the newest and most expensive hotels in LA," Lana realized.

"Apparently arms dealing gives one expensive tastes," Agent Tack explained. "He's known for one weakness. Women. Specifically, a special type of woman."

"Honestly, we need a black woman who looks good in a dress and speaks French," Hunter groaned. "And for some damn reason nobody on my team speaks French. They speak everything **but** French. Even damn Klingon!"

"That's a _thing_?" Lana asked.

"And we don't have any black women on this team," Agent Tack added.

"Not because I haven't tried!" Hunter snapped.

"Haven't exactly tried that hard," Agent Tack grumbled.

"Not this again…" Hunter groaned.

"Just saying we could have kept this in house," Agent Tack added.

"Look I agree there is a **huge** diversity problem within the intelligence community," Hunter told him. "And as soon as this mission is over I will start holding interviews for more agents of color! I've already sent out the notices to other agencies! But can we please get on with this mission **now?"**

"How much does this job pay?" Lana asked with a sigh. "I'm guessing you want me to kill this Delacroix guy?"

"You don't have to kill anyone," Hunter told her. "You're just the distraction. You'll be in and out within four hours. Plenty of time to go pick up your daughter and get back to your life."

"And how much am I getting **paid** to be a distraction?" Lana asked. "Keeping in mind once again that I have been banned from intelligence work."

"Twenty-five grand," Agent Tack told her. "And don't worry about the CIA. We sure as hell aren't going to tell those assholes anything. And they're too distracted with their own plots to focus on you for now."

"Good," Lana nodded. "I'll do it."

"All you have to do is seduce Delacroix and keep him out of his hotel room until 2PM," Hunter said. "Then get him to take him to his room and knock him out with a knockout dart in a ring you will be provided. Take off his clothes and make it look like he had a good time. We'll take it from there."

"By then you'll have the room bugged and ready for evidence," Lana nodded. "I'm more than familiar with this tactic."

"Big surprise," A dark haired young female agent who looked like the actress Alison Brie grumbled.

"What was that?" Lana glared at her.

"Agent Stone…" Hunter warned.

"Is there _a problem_?" Lana glared at Agent Stone.

Agent Stone glared back. "I just don't believe a woman has to degrade herself into acting like a whore if she wants to work as an agent!"

"WHAT?" Lana snapped.

"Hey!" A short woman with long red hair who looked a lot like Alyson Hannigan snapped. "This is different! This is seducing a guy to help America! It's not being a whore if it's to fight bad guys!"

"Thank you!" Lana said.

"I'm just saying I would have totally done this mission if I spoke French," The red-haired woman added. "Or was black."

"Fine Agent Flannigan," Hunter sighed. "As soon as we find a guy who's into short redheads who have a thing for Bigfoot, you're up! Okay?"

"I don't have a thing for Bigfoot!" Agent Flannigan snapped. "I just believe he's out there. And might be lonely. That's all!"

Lana looked at Hunter. "I can see why you need my help."

"Yes," Hunter let out a breath. "Now this mission is highly classified. I'm taking a big risk enough as it is bringing you in. But if you say anything…."

"Yeah, I got it," Lana waved. "Don't say anything. Everything is top secret. No one is to know. This **never happened**. You realize you just described practically my **entire career** as a spy, right?"

"More like an expensive prostitute," Agent Stone grumbled.

"You wanna start something bitch?" Lana growled at her. "Because I will go a round or two with you at any time! Especially since knockout gas makes me a little punchy when I wake up!"

"Agent Stone please…" Hunter sighed. "We've **talked** about this. My main worry is that gang of idiots back at the Figgis Agency."

"Don't worry about it," Lana waved. "When I called in Mallory was on an absinthe blackout bender and everyone else was taking advantage of it. Which means…"

Back at the Figgis Agency…

"Party! Party! PARTY!" Cheryl squealed with glee and she danced around with glo-sticks.

"YEAH!" Pam whooped as she danced as well to loud music.

There were bottles of scotch and piles of food on the tables. Mallory was passed out on the couch. She had a party hat on her face and a glo-stick in her mouth. An ATV was upside down next to the couch.

"A little help?" Krieger moaned as he lay under it. "Ow, my spleen."

"Hey nerf-nuts!" Pam laughed as she went to Cyril's office. "You're missing a bitching party! Krieger already wiped out!"

Ray was standing next to Cyril's desk as Cyril was working at his computer. "Well we're doing a different kind of wipe out," Ray told her.

"You know how sometimes Mallory says stuff she doesn't remember the next day when she's on an absinthe bender?" Cyril asked as he worked at the computer.

"She said something when we went on a food run didn't she?" Pam asked.

"Oh did she ever," Ray nodded.

"Apparently, she had another secret offshore bank account that she's been hiding money in for years," Cyril explained. "Which she gave me the account number. Man, that woman talks when she's plastered."

"And I'm guessing her password was Duchess?" Pam asked.

"It was," Cyril said.

"How do you forget about a secret offshore bank account?" Ray asked.

"It's surprisingly easy if you drink enough," Cyril said. "So I've heard. Anyway, I'm getting some of my money that bitch stole back. And making payroll this week!"

"You're hacking into Ms. Archer's secret bank account?" Pam asked. "I want in."

"Almost everyone is getting in," Ray said. "Uh nobody tell Lana where her paycheck came from this week. She'll have a hissy fit."

"Yeah, we got it," Pam waved. "Never happened."

"She'll be mad no matter what we do," Cyril grumbled. "So why not enjoy ourselves? Which means Cyril is getting new underwear this week. Oh, what the hell? I'm getting a new sweater vest while I'm at it."

"Ooh! Cyril! Bad boy," Ray mocked.

"Holy offshore snacks!" Pam whistled. "That's a lot of cash! When she realizes she's been cleaned out she'll be pissed!"

"If she **remembers** the account," Cyril said. "That woman has more secret stashes than the Nazi government."

"HELP!" Krieger was heard. "THIS IS A SERIOUS CALL FOR HELP HERE!"

"Speaking of which," Pam sighed. "Come on Ray, we'd better get that ATV off him. His screams are kind of bringing down the party."

"Told him it was a bad idea to drive it around the bullpen," Ray shook his head as he went with Pam.

"You know what's a good idea?" Cyril grinned to himself. "A new wide screen TV for Cyril! Oh yes Cyril…You deserve a wide-screen TV! Ha! Ha!"

Back to Lana…

"I'll just tell them I visited Archer then ran some errands all day," Lana waved. "If they ask. Most of them won't. I'd be surprised if any of them care tomorrow. Or will be conscious enough."

"Gee and to think your group was blacklisted from intelligence work," Agent Stone said sarcastically. "I wonder **why**."

"You really have an attitude problem you know that?" Lana glared at Agent Stone. "Your tone. **Not** helpful!"

"Look Agents Stone and Flannigan will debrief you more and help you get ready," Hunter sighed.

"Ooh! Goody!" Agent Flannigan said cheerfully. "I have so many ideas on what to do with your hair. Not that your hair isn't fine. It just needs to be…Spruced up a little."

"Yeah this will be the **highlight** of my day," Agent Stone grumbled.

"The things I have to put up with to pay for my daughter's education," Lana grumbled as she went to get ready. "Every time I think I'm out, they pull me back in!"

A short time later Lana was admiring herself in the mirror. She was wearing an elegant black and white dress and her hair was up. She was wearing elegant gold earrings and a gold bracelet and black shoes. "This I can work with," Lana smirked.

"We can't give you a wire because it will be too risky," Hunter remarked as he and Agent Tack walked into the room. "Remember no earlier than two."

"I gotta admit Hunter," Lana admired herself in the mirror. "You pulled out all the stops for this one. This dress is gorgeous. And these shoes are fabulous. What are they? Coach?"

"Actually, they're Louboutins," Agent Flannigan told her.

"Seriously?" Lana was stunned. "But they're so light and comfortable."

"They're a special order from their secret line," Agent Flannigan told her.

"But they have this padding that feels like memory foam," Lana said.

"Special silicone blend," Agent Flannigan told her. "Feels just like memory foam."

"So can you special order them or…?" Lana asked. "Because I have at least three other dresses at home these would totally go with."

"No, they only give them to agents," Agent Flannigan sighed. "I was able to get a pair in my size in blue but only because I had to triple request…"

"What is this?" Agent Stone snapped. "A mission or a damn fashion show?"

"Hey Stone Heart," Lana snapped. "When you're out in the field all day, trust me. You will need shoes that are comfortable as well as fashionable. Any woman who actually has **been** out there knows that!"

"Just don't screw this up," Agent Stone glared at her. "I am more than aware of your agency's reputation."

"Then you know to keep your fat mouth shut," Lana finished her lipstick and put the ring on. She picked up the clutch purse that went with the outfit. "Okay let's do this."

"Just in time," Agent Tack checked his earpiece. "Delacroix just entered the bar." He pointed to a monitor in the room which showed Delacroix on screen at the bar. "We'll monitor the situation from here. We have cameras and mikes in the bar. Just give us time to do the same for his room."

"Oh yeah," Lana smirked as she left. "This will be easy."

"Good thing **she's** easy," Agent Stone grumbled.

"I heard that bitch," Lana growled as she stuck her head back in. Then left.

"Oh this will go well," Hunter groaned.

"Seriously dude," Agent Tack remarked to Hunter. "We have got to get some black women in this outfit."

"Preferably ones that aren't whores," Agent Stone grumbled. "With hands as big as steam shovels."

Lana was soon at the bar. She deliberately paused at the entrance. She knew all eyes were on her. There were a few other business men and a few women sitting at tables and at the bar. And Delacroix was sitting alone.

 _Showtime_ , she thought to herself as she glided across the room, walking in the most elegant way. She heard someone whistle under his breath.

 _You still got it girl_ , Lana grinned inside as she sat at the bar two seats over from Delacroix.

Lana deliberately pretended not to notice him. She ordered from the bar. "A glass of 1957 Pierre Beauvoir Rouge si vous plait."

"1957?" Delacroix remarked in a French accent. "That's an interesting year."

"I know," Lana waved. "Most people prefer the 1947 vintage. But I find the 1957 bottles have more body and a smoother aftertaste. It's a very underrated year."

"I should try that," Delacroix remarked. "Bartender, make that two."

The bartender poured them each a glass and they drank. Delacroix seemed impressed. "It does have a much smoother taste."

"That's because the wine was allowed to sit in the caskets longer due to the minor troubles of Beauvoir family at the time," Lana remarked. "Well if you consider a fire and a murder suicide minor."

"Ah yes," Delacroix remembered. "I'd forgotten about that particular scandal."

"Yes, mild by today's standards but quite shocking at the time," Lana said. "But as Renoir Beauvoir said before he was led to the sanitorium, _Plus la douleur le plus doux le goût du plaisir."_

" _The stronger the pain, the sweeter the pleasure…"_ Delacroix repeated in his native tongue. _"Do you speak French?"_

"Oui," Lana remarked in French. _"I find it helps me when I do business abroad."_

"Ah an American who speaks French," Delacroix was impressed. "And quite well I may add."

"Merci," Lana made a small show of reaching for the clutch purse she was given.

"Oh please allow me," Delacroix said. "Bartender, put these both on my tab. It is the least I can do for you to introducing me to such an exquisite taste. I must admit I have only drank vintages of PBR from the forties."

"It never hurts to expand one's pallet," Lana shrugged. "A word of advice, don't ask for a Beauvoir Rouge in the states as a PBR. You'll get something completely different."

"I fear I have already learned that lesson," Delacroix grimaced. "To be fair I do like the taste of beer every once in a while. But it was not what I was expecting. Marcel Delacroix."

"Lana LeCaine," Lana told him.

Back in the room Hunter and his agents were watching on the monitor.

"He's actually **buying** this?" Agent Stone was stunned.

"I would," Agent Tack admitted.

"Me too," Agent Flannigan remarked. Everyone looked at her. "Hey she's good okay?"

Back at the bar…

"You are good," Delacroix remarked. "I'm not easily impressed when it comes to champagne."

"I admit my tastes are usually a good stiff drink of Glengoolie Blue at night," Lana shrugged. "But I felt like treating myself."

"Ah another fine drink. So Lana," Delacroix asked. "Are you here for business or pleasure?"

"Can't it be both?" Lana raised an eyebrow.

Back in the room…

"Oh brother, what a line," Agent Stone gagged.

"She's good," Agent Flannigan whistled.

Back at the bar…

"So what does bring you to this fine establishment?" Delacroix asked, sitting much closer to Lana as they sipped champagne.

"Oh what one usually does when one visits a bar," Lana admitted. "Getting over my bastard of an ex-boyfriend. But you don't want to hear about that. It's all rather tedious."

"On the contrary," Delacroix said. "I am interested."

"It's a typical story," Lana sighed. "Girl meets boy. Boy thinks his penis is God's gift to the world and must share it with anything in a skirt. And out of one. Girl is stupid enough to suggest a break so boy can think about what he's doing. Boy doesn't think and runs off with another woman."

"Clearly the boy was the stupid one," Delacroix chuffed. "If he ran away with another woman."

"An older woman," Lana sighed. "I learned the hard way to never get involved with a man who has mommy issues. I fear I love far too well and not wisely at all. Ah l'amour. It can knock you down."

"But it can pick you up again," Delacroix told her. "And my mother has been dead for years."

"Do tell," Lana seductively smiled.

Back to Hunter and his agents…

"I don't **believe** this!" Agent Stone snapped. "She just slinks up, speaks a few words of French and flashes her tits and that's **all** it takes! Can you believe this, Sir? SIR?"

"Huh?" Hunter was transfixed to the screen. "What?"

"What are you **doing?** " Agent Stone snapped.

"Just admiring Kane's technique," Hunter protested.

"And what a technique," Agent Tack whistled.

"Men are just idiots," Agent Stone groaned.

"Look Stone," Hunter said. "Lana Kane was a damn good agent before she got blacklisted. Honestly her only mistake was staying with the Legion of the Dumb Asses. If she'd gotten out like I did who knows…?"

"Wait you **worked** with her once?" Agent Flannigan asked. "You were part of Mallory Archer's agency?"

"A long time ago," Hunter waved. "I was smart and got out. She fell for the boss' son and stayed in. So…The point is, she's a good agent who made bad choices. A lot of bad choices. Really bad choices."

"And you put the future of our mission in her hands," Agent Stone groaned. "That makes me feel **much better**."

"You never uh…" Agent Flannigan asked. "Dated her did you Sir?"

"Oh no," Hunter waved. "Never really went for her. I can't remember why."

"I can think of a few reasons you should have," Agent Tack watched.

"True dat," Agent Flannigan nodded. Agent Stone just rolled her eyes.

Meanwhile Lana was bantering and flirting with Delacroix with ease. It had been so long since she had been this in control with a man.

 _Damn this guy is hot_ , Lana thought to herself. _And it has been a while…_

 _Technically this is work so…Yeah. I mean I have to make it look real. And the only way to make it look real is to actually do it. For work. It's just for work._

 _I mean I've slept with worse. I slept with Barry for crying out loud. And Cyril._

 _And this guy is a step up from Barry._

 _And several steps up from Cyril._

 _No reason I can't have a little fun on this mission._

 _They did say to keep him from his room until two. Didn't say how._

 _And they also said to make it look like he had a good time. So…_

So when Delacroix took Lana to his hotel room she decided to really go for it.

"Let's have a little fun first," Lana grinned as she pushed every other button in the elevator. "Wanna play Elevator Roulette?"

"What…?" Delacroix was shocked.

"The only rule," Lana smirked as the elevator doors closed. "Don't get caught."

She then kissed him passionately. Only to separate as soon as the elevator doors opened.

No one was there. As soon as the doors closed they kissed again.

 _I can't believe I'm saying this_ , Lana thought. _But thank God Cyril taught me this game._

 _I wonder where he learned it?_

 _Never mind! Don't think of him! Just think of having fun! I mean the mission! Think about the mission!_

The next two stops had no one entering. So they were free to make out as they pleased. The one after that had two people, an elderly couple walk in. They didn't suspect a thing.

Lana and Delacroix sent a secret smirk at each other.

They spent several minutes going up and down the elevator enjoying their little game until finally Delacroix decided he had enough.

Soon they were making out in front of his hotel room. "I have never met a woman like you Lana," Delacroix moaned.

"You haven't seen anything yet," Lana kissed him passionately.

They opened the door and started to make out when they realized they weren't alone. In the middle of the room was a man in overalls with wires and pieces of small cameras all over the place. "What the hell?" Delacroix shouted.

"Please tell me you are room service!" Lana groaned.

"Uhhh…" The nervous agent looked around. "Maybe?"

"Camera parts? Wires?" Delacroix shouted. "Were you trying to spy on me?"

"No, these wires and cameras were for the…" The agent gulped. "Refrigerator?"

"I dropped out of grad school for environmental studies for **this**?" Lana groaned.

"Me too!" The agent said. "Well…college. Well technically high school."

"I could tell," Delacroix snapped.

"What idiot doesn't even try to hide in the bathroom so he doesn't get caught?" Lana blinked.

"It's my first day!" The agent shouted.

"First day as what?" Lana barked. "An idiot?"

"Too bad it's your last," Delacroix pulled out a gun and pointed it at the agent.

"Hunter so needs to hire new people," Lana sighed. Right before she kicked the gun out of his hand started to fight with Delacroix.

"I'm guessing you're an agent as well…" Delacroix pulled out a few daggers. One whizzed past Lana.

"I guess that's why they call you The Dagger," Lana groaned.

Then she remembered that she had the knockout dart. She tried to activate her ring but it wouldn't open. "ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME? Who made this piece of crap?"

Lana dodged the daggers. "GET THE GUN STUPID!"

"I think she's talking to you," Delacroix shouted at the agent. "Not that it matters…I prefer using my daggers anyway."

"No, no! Just **stand there**!" Lana snapped as she dodged Delacroix's daggers in his hands. "I'll just do **all the work!"**

For one moment, they got very close. Lana barely managed to keep Delacroix from stabbing her using her strength. "Those hands…" Delacroix gasped. "So big…Wait a minute? Are you a man?"

"NO, I'M NOT A MAN!" Lana snapped as she shoved him back. She barely missed the daggers he threw at her. They ended up embedded in the wall. "You missed."

"Not really," Delacroix smirked.

That's when Lana's dress started to fall apart. "God damn it…"

"Okay you're definitely not a man," Delacroix remarked. "Unless that's a really good tuck job."

"NOW I'M PISSED!" Lana shouted as she charged at him.

CRACK!

Delacroix's body fell to the floor after Lana broke his neck in a rage. The agent stood there in complete and total shock.

"You said you'd be ready by 2PM!" Lana snapped as the last of her dress fell to the floor. "It's 2:15! I even gave you an extra **fifteen minutes**! SERIOUSLY? HOW COULD YOU **NOT** BE READY?"

"Uhhh…" The terrified agent looked at her.

"What happened?" Hunter burst in with his gun drawn with his team. "Is everything all right?"

"No!" Lana snapped. "My dress is ripped!"

"I was referring to Delacroix!" Hunter snapped. "Why is he dead? What happened?"

"Hey! I did my part! Everything was fine until we got into this room!" Lana shouted. "What the god damn hell happened?"

"Yeah Jerry what **did** happen?" Agent Tack snapped at the other agent.

"It took longer than I thought!" Jerry pleaded. "And then there were these extra wires and…"

"And long story short," Lana was frustrated, not even caring she was in her black underwear now. "I had to take care of the target while this idiot just **stood** there! NOT HELPING AT ALL!"

"Uhh…I got scared!" Jerry gulped.

" **YOU** GOT SCARED?" Lana shouted. "By the way your stupid knockout ring doesn't even work! I couldn't even get the damn thing open! I'm betting Jerry made it or something. Am I right?"

"That was Jerry's department," Agent Tack grimaced as he saw Delacroix on the floor.

"Figures!" Lana threw up her hands. She took the ring off and threw it in a small garbage can.

"How did he…?" Agent Tack asked.

"I had to break the bastard's neck!" Lana snapped. "Or else he would have broken mine! And Jerry's! Again Jerry, **not helping** at all!"

"Great! Weeks of work ruined!" Agent Stone shouted.

"I should have **let him** shoot you!" Lana snapped at Jerry. "The first guy to give me a decent look in months and you **ruined it!"**

"Ruined it? Wait a minute…" Agent Stone was shocked. "You were gonna screw him for real, weren't you?"

"Well that's pretty much a moot point **now,** isn't it?" Lana snapped.

"You were going to have sex with another guy while your boyfriend and the father of your child is in a coma?" Agent Stone was stunned.

"Archer screwed Veronica Deane and got me arrested as a joke!" Lana snapped. "And it's been months since I had sex! I needed a win! But thanks to **Jerry here** …"

"Yeah Jerry!" Agent Flannigan snapped. "Way to go stupid!"

"You're on **her side**?" Agent Stone snapped at the other female agent.

"Hey there's a cheating and lying to the cops clause in play here," Agent Flannigan told her. "She has every right to get something on the side."

"Thank you again!" Lana snapped. "It's not like I'm cheating on Archer just for the sake of cheating! Technically I think we're still on break."

"You **think?** " Agent Stone snapped.

"Veronica Deane shot Archer and put him in a damn coma before we could resolve things!" Lana snapped.

"See?" Agent Flannigan pointed. "It wasn't her fault!"

"Nice to see at least **one** of you gets it!" Lana shouted. "But I am not getting the blame for this disaster! This was **not** my fault!"

"No, no!" Hunter did not want to tick off Lana right then. "The problem was on **our end**! We messed up!"

"Well Jerry messed up," Agent Tack growled and glared at the technician. "Thanks a lot Jerry!" Jerry shuffled his feet in embarrassment.

"This was Jerry's fault, not yours," Hunter apologized. "In fact you kind of did our job for us. So I'll throw in another twenty five grand on top."

"Why are we **paying** this woman?" Agent Stone snapped. "She killed off our lead!"

"To be fair we were going to kill him too," Agent Tack admitted.

" **After** we got the information!" Agent Stone snapped. "I told you this plan would go wrong! That woman is one of the screw ups from Mallory Archer's Good Time Spy Jamboree! She's a screw up!"

"She's also the same woman who literally ripped off Conway Stern's hands," Hunter warned. "Not figuratively, literally!"

"And she just killed another guy with her bare hands," Agent Tack added. "For ripping a dress that technically wasn't even hers. So uh, if you wanna piss her off. Be my guest." He moved to the side out of Lana's line of fire.

"Technically it was because he thought she was a man…" Jerry began.

"SHUT UP JERRY!" Lana barked.

"Shutting up," Jerry gulped.

"I'm pretty sure you can find whatever information you need in either his safe or his wallet anyway," Lana rolled her eyes. "I see a briefcase by that lampshade over there. Maybe **that** might have some clues?"

"Jerry…" Hunter glared at the agent.

"Oh right," Jerry gulped. He went and picked up the briefcase and opened it on the bed. "Wow. There's a lot of stuff in here. Contacts. Locations. Weapons specifications…"

"See? Problem solved," Lana told them. "Everything is fine. You got your info and the guy you wanted dead is dead. Everything just came to a head a lot faster than you predicted."

"You still screwed up the mission by trying to screw Delacroix!" Agent Stone snapped.

"What mission?" Lana asked sarcastically. "It _never existed_! I don't **remember** any mission!"

"Okay you made your point," Agent Tack growled.

"And it especially never gets mentioned to Mallory Archer!" Lana snapped. "Whatever this mission was because it **never happened**!"

"Okay you can keep a secret," Hunter groaned. "We **get** it!"

"And so will anybody who blabs about this," Lana added. "Can I go now?"

"Please do," Agent Stone snarled. "You've helped enough as it is!"

"Listen you," Lana glared at her. "It's easy for someone like **you** …Someone who obviously hasn't been in the field for longer than ten minutes to criticize me…"

"She hasn't," Agent Flannigan spoke up. Agent Stone glared at her. "What? We're analyzers! We both have mostly desk jobs!"

"Well until you actually **do** spend time in the field," Lana went on glaring at Agent Stone. "You have no right to criticize me. Spoiler alert honey, things **go wrong** on missions! And until you've spent the past fifteen years out in the field working for an immoral insane self-absorbed boss and with her equally insane self-centered asshole of a son…You have **no idea** what I have been through and what I have survived. I've fought my way through jungles, deserts, swamps, avalanches, earthquakes, prisons, sea labs, sewers, submarines, and even outer God damn space while you were sitting around filling out forms and doing your **nails!** "

"Uh…" Agent Stone gulped as Lana walked menacingly towards her.

"I've had to deal with KGB agents," Lana went on. "Double agents. Tripe agents. Assassins. Drug dealers. Dictators. The Yakuza. The Camorra. Mob bosses. Terrorists. Biker gangs. Killer clowns. Cyborgs. Clones! Cyborg clones! Dogs! Alligators! Ocelots! Giant lizards! Radioactive Pigs! Giant toasters! Gun crazy cops. Crazy undersea captains with fake god damn nerve gas missiles. Insane space captains who want to colonize Mars with my babies for some damn reason. Crazy ass Hollywood starlets with their own murdering agenda. And Cheryl and/or Carol God Damn Tunt!"

"So until you walk a mile in **my shoes** ," Lana snarled. "And spend one God damn **day** with Mallory Archer, Sterling Archer, Cyril Figgis, Pam Poovey, Krieger, Ray Gillette and Cheryl and/or Carol Tunt you'd better watch your damn trap and keep it **shut!** GOT IT?"

CRACK!

Lana had slammed a fist into a wall right next to Agent Stone. It made a huge hole. Lana didn't even flinch.

But Agent Stone did. "Got it!"

"Now where the hell are my clothes and purse?" Lana shouted as she pulled away her hand. An agent nervously handed them to her. "Good! Now I am going to get changed in the bathroom next door. Get into my car which better be parked in the driveway. Check my bank statement and go pick up my daughter at day care. As far as I am concerned this day **never happened!** GOT IT?"

"Car's parked right in the front," Hunter gulped. "Sending the payment as we speak. Nice working with you."

"And I'm keeping the damn shoes!" Lana snapped as she left.

"God damn," Agent Tack whistled.

"We so have to get a black woman on this team," Hunter groaned.

"Not her," Agent Stone gulped. "Please not her…"

"Oh no, no, no…" Hunter groaned. "I just remembered why I never dated that woman."

"She's **crazy,** " Agent Tack gulped.

"And how…" Hunter agreed. "Think I just figured out why she never left Mallory Archer's agency."

Soon Lana was dressed in her clothes again and in her car. "God damn assholes!" Lana grumbled as she put her new shoes on the floor in the front seat. "Now I remember the one good thing about not being a spy anymore! Not having to work for judgmental pricks like **that!** "

Lana checked her bank statement with her phone. "Fifty grand and a new pair of expensive shoes for an afternoon's work. Not too shabby. Ugh, still not enough to cover my lady blue balls."


End file.
